


Rockabye

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dubious Science, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forced Pregnancy, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Sith Shenanigans, The Force Ships It, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: If it is the will of the Force, then so it shall be.The Force never asked him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Do you see what this fandom has done to me?

If it is the will of the Force, then so it shall be.

This is Kylo’s self-affirmation: when he’s curled up on the restroom floor with a trail of bile from his mouth to the bowl; when he’s obviously winded after minor exertions; when he’s trapped in his own quarters, consumed by emotions he’s spent so long harnessing. This is what Leader Snoke told him, when he begged guidance, when he couldn’t train the weakness away. What he mouths, silently, while his hand skates his stomach and he can’t fathom why the Force would want this from him.

He’s more melancholic as of late— adjusting to new limitations, to rampant hormones. Kylo comes to the bridge in the dead of artificial night, a skeleton crew tending readouts below, and they still observe him fearfully. That, at least, has not changed.

Hux is there, which shouldn’t surprise Kylo as it does. (He knows the man only sleeps sated; knows the lines of his body and the scent of his skin— knows they haven’t spoken since the news broke.) He barks an order without eye contact, turns quickly to micromanage something else, and the careful cultivation of his expression falls away when he sees Kylo across the floor, much the same way Kylo fell apart when he read his test results. Hux marches down the walkway— and stars, he even breaks stride— before he’s flinging his arms around Kylo and crushing them together.

Kylo’s arms are pinned to his sides, but his hands stay open in shock, because even when he’d been so overwhelmed with attention and sensation that he’d cried in bed, Hux never embraced him like this. (Laughed, actually, and it was somehow comforting that he hadn’t tried to comfort him.)

Now, the General mutters helplessly into the heavy textile hood, “Why didn’t you  _ tell _ me?”

Hands settle on Hux’s hips, hard to see under the padding of his uniform, but Kylo’s hands fall there naturally by now. “I didn’t know.”

“This is absurd,” Hux declares, thumping the heel of his palm into Kylo’s back, and then curling his fingers in the fabric. “Do you have any idea what it was like to hear this from Snoke? To think you were trying to hide it from me?”

Kylo repeats, “I didn’t know.” A lieutenant averts his eyes, and Kylo considers wiping his mind, but he knows he doesn’t have the energy. Hux— impossibly, as he always does— knows his anxieties. Straightens back to his pretentious posture, and beckons Kylo after him. Hux knows his ship, like he knows Imperial history, and how to bend the will of every species worth considering, so the hallway he leads him down is empty as the Outer Rim.

“What did the Leader tell you, exactly?” Kylo questions, cautiously, pulling back when he catches himself grazing the edges of Hux’s mind. It’s not his place to intrude; not with Hux.

“To watch out for you. Make sure you didn’t overexert yourself.” He stops, suddenly, and turns on his heel. “That you’re kriffing  _ pregnant. _ ”

He’s a miracle. He’s an abomination. He’s just a host.

If it is the will of the Force, then so it shall be.

Hidden in the claustrophobia of his helmet, Kylo keeps his breathing even while he blinks back tears. The Force never asked him.

Hux is quiet, and then his fingers are digging into the catches on Kylo’s helmet and tearing it away. Kylo keeps his eyes scrunched tight. Hux can’t see tears if Kylo doesn’t look.

“Open your eyes,” the General orders, and Kylo sees him standing there, helmet dangling in the hand by his side and bringing the other flat to Kylo’s abdomen. “This, here? This is ours. Just you, and me, Force be bloody damned.”

This wouldn’t be without the Force— shouldn’t be— fate, but a mistake even so. It’s not Kylo’s. It never was. “This isn’t  _ ours, _ Hux. It isn’t even yours.”

His helmet hits the floor, a harsh clang as his robes bunch up in Hux’s fist. His eyes down, he grits out, “Then  _ who else _ have you been  _ fucking? _ ”

It hits him like a Force vision: that Hux thinks— that he would even consider…

That Kylo has given him no indication it’s about anything more than sex.

He lays one hand over Hux’s, squeezes, gently, like he’s afraid to break them, because he can feel every bone holding him together. “No one, Hux. Never anyone else.” Kylo reaches out for his other hand, finds it shaking for how tightly he’s tensed. Squeezes until it releases, and brings them together, all four, between their two bodies. “The Force doesn’t need anyone else.”

Hux blinks, flexes his forcibly clasped hands, and frowns. “Yes it does.”

He’s cautious to disagree, “I know how the Force works, Hux—”

“ _ I _ know how science works, and you don’t have enough chromosomes. So, unless you have someone else’s genetic material floating around—”

Kylo has never been good at gentle. He lunges forward, wraps Hux up in his arms and robes like he’s trying to shield him from a solar flare. The General manages to dislodge his arms from where they’re crushed between them, and combs his fingers through Kylo’s hair at the back of his head. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Nodding quickly into his shoulder, Kylo assents, “Yours.”

Hux rubs at the small of his back, which hasn’t quite started to ache. “Then this is ours.”


End file.
